


Breaking, slowly

by Echofell



Category: Pocket Monsters: Black & White | Pokemon Black and White Versions
Genre: F/M, Hilda/Touko, I want to get it out there to motivate me, Idk how to write HIlda yet please forgive me, N Harmonia - Freeform, also practicing my present tense style, also what even are titles lol, an excerpt from a longer story I'm writing, practicing dialogue, wanted to show N's beliefs cracking a little bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 11:22:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18570424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Echofell/pseuds/Echofell
Summary: N's beliefs are starting to crack, and he's desperately trying to hang on to everything he knows--which isn't much. Just some dialogue practice that will be incorporated into a future story.





	Breaking, slowly

            He’s not sure how he got there, when exactly he’d decided he wanted to see it again. The forest where Pokémon had sheltered him. The trees are close together, the sunlight turning dust in the air to glimmers. Pidoves and a few Chatots sing to each other among the leaves, and an Emolga looks down curiously from a branch. 

         N approaches a large oak tree in a small meadow and looks up at its boughs. He used to try climbing this tree every day back then, willing his short legs to be able to reach the lowest branch and gain access to the higher leaves. Darmanitan would step in and act as a footstool, while Woobats followed his ascent and settled onto his favorite place to sit against the trunk. Zorua would curl in his lap.

         Now, the same Zorua climbs up his pantleg, up his jacket, and slips its paws over his shoulders with a small hum that N now knows as a noise of encouragement. N tilts his head to smile at it, grabs the tree with both hands, and slips his foot into a knot in the bark and hoists himself up with ease.

         He’s sitting in his same old spot moments later, with Zorua in his lap as he overlooks the forest. Leaves rustle in the breeze, and Pokémon that dwell among them periodically emerge, looking at him almost expectantly. He smiles at them, but looks down at his feet, and the ground beneath, right after.

         “Darmanitan… If only you could see me now.”

         He’s musing to himself, though he’s aware part of him is doing it in hopes that he’ll hear his voice.

         “I’m going to spread change so Pokémon can live in peace. I don’t know where you are, but I hope you’re safe.”

         You’ve probably been imprisoned by a self-declared trainer that will never care for you like I did.

         “I wish I could still live here, sometimes. But I’m glad where I am now. I’m the king of Team Plasma. I’ve found my purpose.”

         “Ghetsis told you your purpose, you mean.”

         N grasps the branch with both hands, frantic to keep his flinch from throwing off his balance. He glances over his shoulder to see Hilda looking up at him from below, with one hand on her hip and the other holding a Pokéball at her side.

         “H-Hilda? How long have you been here?”

         “Long enough to see you still like talking to yourself.” She smiles wryly. “Where’s your lackeys?”

         “I came here alone. I’m usually alone.”

         “Honestly, I’m surprised they even let you do that.” She pauses and glances at her feet, tapping the toe of her shoe against the dirt. “So. I guess I’ll be on my way.”

         “No, wait.” N isn’t quite sure why that makes his heart drop, why he suddenly feels colder. “You don’t have to.”

         Hilda looks at him, visibly puzzled. “I know. But why should I hang around the leader of Team Plasma?”

         Ouch. That one hurt.

         “We may have different ideals,” N starts to explain, after a few seconds, “but I don’t dislike you, Hilda.”

         Hilda is quiet for a few seconds. She shifts her weight to her other leg and tightens her grip on her Pokéball, only to loosen it.

         “In other words, you want to talk.”

         “Uh…if that’s alright.” N chooses to look at her feet instead of her eyes as he answers.

         “Alright, N, you win. Let’s talk.”

         N turns his head away from her and smiles at that. Zorua clings to his shirt, and N pushes himself off the branch and falls to land in a crouch. He turns and faces Hilda with a soft smile.

         “Follow me. I know a place.”

         He starts leading her through the trees. Hilda follows at a small distance, keeping an eye on his back, eyeing his wild hair and thinking about how she’d like to take a brush to it.

         Not because she cares. Because it needs it. And it might be prettier if she did.

         Prettier? That thought bothers her.

         N turns around, continuing to walk backwards with the same bounce in his step that Hilda remembers having when she’d do the same thing as a child.

         “You should let your Pokémon out. I’m sure they don’t like being inside there.”

         Hilda glances at the lack of visible Pokéballs on his person, and the lack of a bag he could be carrying them in. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll attack you?”

He looks at her, frowning at the thought. “I know you wouldn’t do that. We know each other too well.”

          _People hurt people they know all the time._ She seriously wonders if he doesn’t realize that, but she breaks eye contact and clicks open the Pokéball in her hand anyway. He’s never seemed to be the problem anyway. She thinks back to where she first met him, standing by his side as Plasma members right behind them discussed him without even knowing who he was. Servine appears from the light, looking around herself before making eye contact with N’s Zorua. Servine hisses at it. 

         “Hey, we’re not here to fight.” N stops walking, halting Hilda as well as he kneels down in front of Servine. “You’re good at protecting Hilda, aren’t you? But there’s no need to right now. I’m her friend.”

         Servine stands up, relaxing from her crouched pose ready to strike. She looks up at Hilda, clearly unsure of how to respond. Hilda nods to her. 

         “He’s right, he’s not here to fight us this time. You can relax.”

          _“But…don’t we always fight them?”_

         N shakes his head. “We may have fought several times up until now, but today we won’t. And soon, never again.”

         Servine looks back at N and calms down. N smiles and outstretches his hand, letting her sniff it before rising and starting to walk again. This time, he falls back to stand beside Hilda, bridging their gap. Hilda falls quiet and watches Zorua descend from N’s shoulder down to walk alongside Servine and start yipping to her, initiating a conversation.

         “Hey, N.” Hilda looks over at him, angling her head toward their Pokémon. “What are they saying?”

         N is quiet for a moment, then smiles. “Zorua is telling Servine about the new move he learned recently.” Then he frowns. “And he’s saying that he wants to show her it soon.”

         “I’m guessing that bothers you.”

         “A bit.”

         “But look at them, N. Chatting as though they’re friends. It would be nothing more than play-fighting at this point. Not all trainers are out to wound Pokémon, just like not all Pokémon are out to wound others.”

         “I wish I could believe that.”

         “You can. You just need to learn it for yourself. Not what Ghetsis told you to believe, but what you decide to believe. On your own.”

         N makes a _hmph_ noise, dodging behind her and resting a hand on her shoulder to redirect her before slipping away.

         “Oh, come on. I didn’t mean to anger you, N. You just need to hear it.”

         “Do I now? Why is you telling me to go believe something different any better than Ghetsis telling me what to believe?”

         Hilda opens her mouth to retort, but she can’t think of anything snappy to say back. “Uh, well… For one, I’m not, you know, deliberately keeping information from you to steer you in the direction that best suits my goals.”

         “Wouldn’t it be just as beneficial to you to keep me from carrying out Team Plasma’s ideals?” N narrows his eyes and walks away from her, his footsteps heavier as he walks faster.

         “N! You know that’s not what I meant!” Hilda hurries to match his pace, and Zorua and Servine dart after them too, shooting each other confused looks. “It’s just that having such a black and white view of the world isn’t healthy, and it isn’t fair.”

         N comes to a sudden stop, snapping a thin twig underfoot as he clutches his hand into fists and growls lowly. Hilda bumps into his back and stumbles away, staring at the back of his head as he stays there, his shoulders rigid and his head bowed.

         “You think I don’t know that, Hilda?” he says quietly. “I thought everything would go well until you showed up. And now you’re messing with my head. You understand your Pokémon, despite not speaking their language. You take the time to actually ask them if they want to walk with you on your journey. Yes, you’re an ideal trainer. But what of it? There will always be humans who use and abuse Pokémon as long as they have Pokémon within reach. The only way to solve that is to liberate them all.”

         He sighs heavily, and after a moment relaxes his hands and shoulders. “But. You’re a chosen hero too. I don’t want to be enemies. I can see your ideals, your thought process behind hoping people and Pokémon can coexist peacefully. Problem is, that’s not the truth. One day we’ll fight, and we’ll see which dragon’s reality will win. Until then…I want us to stay as we are.”

         There are several things Hilda could say to that. _As we are? Opposing forces charged with subduing the other? You really think you can force your will upon everyone in Unova?_

         She thinks of exactly what N would say back to that: _you think humans should force their will upon every Pokémon in Unova?_

         She bites her tongue and decides to save her breath on that subject.

         “What exactly do you think we are, N?”

         He turns around and gives her a wistful smile. His eyes look moist. He looks…conflicted.

         “I don’t know. Friends?” It’s a question, not a statement. She notices he's clasping his other hand and nervously playing with the fingers.

         Hilda thinks back to the conversations they’d had, and most of all, the time he’d led her to ride the Ferris wheel to escape his own group members from challenging her. Maybe he doesn’t feel that loyal to them after all.

         She looks at his face, his soft, heartbroken face. His wet eyes. She can’t imagine the burden he’s carrying, the morals and beliefs warring in his heart. _Maybe he really does need a friend._

         “…Sure, N. Friends.”


End file.
